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Whale
Dream It was, therefore, a shocking experience for me to awaken in the middle of the night with the vivid image and remembrance of a dream resounding through my awareness. Whales had spoken to me. Whales. I mean, I was a mountain boy. Whales were the furthest critter from my thoughts. “Let them say that we have mites in our ears, that we are blindly following our leader to our death,” they said. This was pretty strange, but they continued. “But we want you to know that we are killing ourselves to bring to your attention that you are destroying our home and this planet. You must stop.” Okay. This was bizarre. Whales were talking to me in the Dream Realm. I rolled over and went back to sleep. When morning rolled around I brewed a cup of mint tea and sat in the sunshine streaming through the window of the cabin. I had turned the radio on, music playing in the background. Top of the hour. The news came on. And the radio news man began to tell of 28 whales that had just beached themselves on the coast of Florida. I had never heard of whale beachings before, and this may, actually, have been the first such mass event of its nature in our contemporary era. The news reporter then said “Marine biologists believe that the whales are disoriented due to mites in their ears, while there is also speculation that the leader of the whales was ill and lost his navigation ability and the whales were blindly following their leader to their own death.” I sat there, dumbfounded. My entire world had just inverted, like a TV channel switched mid-ball game to a nature show. The whales had let me know what their true intent was, the reason for their mass suicide. My gut wrenched. The realm of the ocean had just reached out and sent a tsunami of communication over this mountain boy. Whales had come to me in the night, in Dream, spoken to me, let me know the truth. The years have rolled on, nearly thirty, since that moment. I had, until that time, sat on my rage, railed against the machine, helpless in the face of the rape and desecration of the Earth. And now that the whales had empowered me with a truth, a responsibility was born within me. Rage, in time, tempered in the fires of love and compassion, molted into passion. And that passion, where once rage had railed, found its voice and began to speak, to sing. And this voice sought out willing ears, hearts that were not dead, but could feel, and in feeling, act. Then came the time when a voice was not sufficient. I knew that in order to be even more effective in communicating the still voices of the Earth and her Creatures, that I had to engage, and in engaging, bring others into the experience of hearing with their own hearts the voice of the sea, of the land, the air and even fire. This has evolved into the opportunities I create for others to step into the Dream Time of the Dolphins, ceremonials to dance and sing the Earth alive, to let the Spirits of the Earth know we are in appreciation of their gifts. Did you really think these upcoming Costa Rica Retreats were some kind of mere vacation?
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